


Mahou Sensei MSPA-tan!

by KPGrace



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Friendsim, Negima AU, Other, Reader-Insert, What is sleep?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPGrace/pseuds/KPGrace
Summary: In a universe where Earth and Alternia are in the same cosmic plane. You, MSPA-tan, just graduated with flying colors at the most prestigious majyykal university on Earth at the young age of thirteen--quite the extraordinary feat for someone so young. Though for you, it was one big step to becoming a "Grandmaster Mage", a special wizard/witch/whatever who uses their powers to help people in the guise of working for an NGO. To your surprise, you get stuck with the job of being a teacher at the middle school division of Alterra Academy--a school based on an artificial island smack dab in the middle of the Pacific. Even more unsettling was that your assigned homeroom class consisted of forty troll kids, each one of them unique in their own special way. It's gonna be one hell of a ride trying to rein in these brats, but how exactly are you going to pull it off when you're technically a brat yourself?





	1. Welcome to Alterra Academy!

**Author's Note:**

> My little addition for the scant number of Hiveswap Friendsim fics out there. Chapters will probably be episodic in nature. Updates will be sporadic due to me working on an original fiction. Enjoy!

You fuss about with your robes as you stand on your spot in the front row along with probably a hundred other students in the Grand Auditorium of Skaia Universal Institute of Thaumaturgy, or SUIT for short.  Thaumaturgy, in lay man’s terms, is a fancy-schmancy word for the study of ‘majyyk’.  Yup, that’s right.  Majyyk is a thing on Planet Earth, or at least in this iteration of Earth.  They are are not to be confused with ‘magic’, which is completely fake and only good for performing at lame children’s parties.  There are a lot of schools all over that are devoted to imparting the arcane, miraculous, and once forbidden knowledge to children everywhere.  _Y_ _ou_ are one of those children.

The sound of crisp purposeful footsteps on a stone floor catches your and your classmates’ attention.  You look up the stage to see Headmaster Wiseman walking along the stage and onto the podium set at the middle while the school faculty stand on either side of him a few feet away.  Supposedly, it would be proper to describe the appearance of any important character that comes along in a story, though in this case, there is just no point in wasting words and energy.  The geezer was basically Gandalf from Lord of the Rings.  Of course, that is to say, he looked so much like Gandalf that he might as well _be_ Gandalf.  All majyyk school headmasters were Gandalf.

The Hall fall silent in anticipation as Headmaster Gan—er, Wiseman fondly regards everyone.

“Today marks the end of yet another era,” he said in his old wizened voice.  “Congratulations, batch of 2612 graduates! You have all done well these past seven years.”

You smile, feeling proud of yourself.  All those years of hard studying led to this glorious moment.  Soon, you’ll be well on your way to become a Grandmaster Mage, the highest position of honor all wizards/witches/mages/whatever aspire to gain.  Not bad for a kid like you who’s just starting on the chapters of puberty while everyone else around you had already finished.

“However,” the Headmaster continues, “Graduation doesn’t mean an end to learning.”  All the graduates, including yourself, gave him puzzled looks.  What does he mean by that?

“Your _real_ training into becoming civilized members of society, begins now.  Once I call your name, step up and receive your diploma.”  Your batchmates get called one by one.  As your last name is somewhere near the end of the alphabet, it would be a while before you get your turn.  Sooner or later, the sound of names being called turn into a dull monotonous droning in your ears.  Your eyelids begin to feel heavy.

“MSPA Reader…”  Your head lolled to the side as drowsiness slowly takes over you.

“MSPA Reader?” A jab at your side startles you awake.  You look to the side where the jab came from and you made eye contact with a batchmate who tells you to get your ass up on stage already.  Realization hits you like an empty bottle to the head and you hurry up to the front with your face flushed from embarrassment.  The rest of the event goes on without a hitch.

As with nearly everything else in a majyyk school, a graduate’s diploma is more than just a simple fancy roll of paper saying you’ve accomplished some grueling years of hunching down with your nose buried in a dusty old tome or waving a stick around.  In the majyyk world, a graduate’s diploma isn’t only a mark of achievement, but also an aid for deciding the new full fledged mage next step towards their future.  You unroll the parchment to take that first look upon your destiny.  The words appear with a flash the minute it was spread wide open.

 

**"ALIEN TEACHER"**

 

Eh?

EEEEEEEEEEEH?!

This has got to be a mistake! You need to have a word with the Headmaster right away!

* * *

 

“A teacher, eh? For aliens?” said Headmaster Wiseman, taking a sip of his earl gray tea.  “Well, if that’s what it says in your diploma, then that’s the end of the matter.  You must train hard in order to become a great mage.”

There has to be some kind of misunderstanding! Don’t real teachers, majyykal or otherwise, need some kind of license to be able to teach at any respectable educational facility? Plus, you’re only thirteen! And what is this about aliens?!

“Now calm down. There’s no reason for you to fret,” said the Headmaster.  “The principal of the school you’ll be assigned to is a friend of mine.  She’ll get you up to speed in no time.  Just do you best and you’ll be fine.”

Okay…

“Good. Now get out of my office.”

A few days later, you’re dressed up in your best suit with a handful of your belongings stuffed in a single suitcase and on board a plane going from the Big Island of Hawaii to a place called the Alterra Islands.  From what you’ve heard from whispers and read and watched from the internet (mages here aren’t as averse to modern science and technology), Alterra was a chain of man-made islands smack dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  It was made to help foster relations between the humans of planet Earth and the aliens of planet Alternia.  Yes, aliens… You have found that they’re also a thing on Earth… and the universe.  Apparently more than a decade ago, the Alternians—or trolls as they called themselves—first arrived to Earth as refugees fleeing from the civil war raging on their homeworld.  They were sick, hurting, and desperate from their long journey.  Their leader, a male troll named the Signless, was the one to initiate first contact between them and the humans.  He was willing to trade their tech and ships in exchange for food and the care of the well-being of other trolls with him.  With the help of a renowned wealthy polymath, the trolls were slowly acclimating to life on earth, though it wasn’t without its own set of problems.  To make a long story short, people can be dicks.

The flight from Hawaii to Alterra didn’t take long.  After a couple of hours, you disembark the plane and went on to look for your guide who was mentioned to be waiting for you at the airport.  You look around and see an adult male troll with nubby horns and red eyes dressed in a similar respectable fashion as you though the had a gray vest rather than a jacket with a candy red tie and had the sleeves of his dress shirt folded to his elbows.  He carried a sign with your name on it.  That must be him.  You walk over and introduce yourself.

“So you’re the new teacher? I gotta say, I didn’t think you’d be so young,” he said.  He seemed like such an amicable fellow.  You admit that you were scared of him at first since you've never spoken to a troll before.

He gives a friendly chuckle.  “Don’t worry about it.  Once you get settled, you’ll be spending a lot of your time talking to trolls.  You’ll get used to it in no time.  By the way, I’m Kankri Vantas.  I teach Social Studies at the academy.  You may have also heard of me as the Signless around the time of the first contact.”  You nod as you stare at him in awe.  He became quite the celebrity after the first contact, an icon for peaceful relations between human and trollkind.  You have no idea why he was called ‘Signless’, but you decided not to ponder about it too much.  You never thought he’d be the one guiding you of all people.

“Anyway, shall we go? The principal of the school you’ll be teaching in is expecting you.”

The two of you leave the airport with him taking the lead.  Mr. Vantas takes you to a cab that had been standing in wait.  He takes the seat next to the human driver while you get settled on the backseat.  Once you leave the airport grounds, he begins to give you a little basic information.

Alterra is a little chain of four main islands that serve as the home base for the troll residents as well as their embassy on Earth.  The islands each host a division of Alterra Academy.  The middle school division where you’ll be working is built on Isle-2 where you are currently on.  On average, there are about seventy-thousand students earn their education on Alterra, ranging from kindergarten to university levels.  Most of the students are young trolls who hatched on Earth.  There are human students as well who are usually the children of the humans who worked on the Islands.  Each island also has their own facilities for food and utility production, waste management, justice system, and a local economy—pretty much everything that can qualify Alterra as its own little sovereign nation.  Though international trading was limited to a whole line of products that suited the needs of their fellow trolls living on other nations.  The construction of the islands was commissioned solely by a billionaire explorer named Jake Harley, who you remember to also be the main sponsor for SUIT.  Could it be that he’s also a mage like you?

You looked out the window as Mr. Vantas babbled on.  You marveled at the lush greenery that was teeming with strange wildlife.  Some resembled Earth animals, some seemed more like mythical creatures, the rest were downright strange.  Mr. Vantas explains to you that those creatures were the lusii that were smuggled from Alternia.  Your eyes nearly bug out upon hearing that as you spot one of larger creatures snap its jaws on a smaller one and proceed to tear it apart.  These creatures were supposed to care for children?! Was Mr. Vantas raised by one of them?

“Yes, it has been that way since the beginning.  Adult trolls aren’t best suited to care for young… with a few rare exceptions…”  He went on to explain about trolls with jade blood who along with taking care of the Mother Grub who lays the eggs for the troll species, care for newly-hatched trolls or grubs to prepare them for their trials.  And the fact that he was raised by one since grubhood despite the fact that he should have been culled instead due to his mutant blood color.  You turn your attention back up front to see the somber expression in his eyes through the rear-view mirror.  You have learned about the different castes trolls have according to their blood color a few days before your departure via web search.  It was quite strange, but the cruel hierarchy built on it was anything but pleasant.  No wonder Mr. Vantas and his followers went to rebel.

“Oh, sorry. I got a bit carried away. Am I bumming you out?” He asked, snapping from his reverie.  You tell him that it’s fine.  It’s okay to be sad every now and then.

A little while later you spot a bunch of tall fancy buildings coming up in the distance.  Your ride gets closer until it stops by large metal gate bearing a shield emblem bearing a spirograph between a pair of stylized wings with a banner underneath bearing the words: Alterra Academy in Times New Roman capitals.  You get off the taxi and stared at the school in wonder as Mr. Vantas addressed the security guards who opened the gates to let you in.  Is this really a school? The structure of the buildings remind you of a scenic European town, though the roads were void of any vehicle save for a few cable cars.  Teenagers, both troll and human, walked around in gray and black uniforms heading for the same direction up north.  You get a lot of stares while your guide gets a lot of smiles and greetings.  After a moment, Mr. Vantas hails a cable car for the both of you.

“In case you were wondering, this is the student town,” he says after sitting down next to you.  “This is where the student dormitories, shops, and recreational facilities are.  The school building is further forward.”

The ride is peaceful for the most part as the cable car moved at a steady pace, but then a little later, you notice a hoard of students coming in running and rushing.  Some were riding on skates and skateboards, taking the back rail of the cable car to tag along.  Others were driving automobiles despite being definitely underage.  Some were riding on the backs of what you guessed were their lusii.  And there were some who are even flying! Had you been an average Joe, that last part would really surprise you.  It’s a good thing you’re a mage.  Anything is possible with the power of majyyk! You’ve thought of using it to send yourself to the straight to the principal’s office, but alas, teleportation only works if you have a clear picture of your destination, which you don’t.

Your cable car is soon stuffed with more students to near bursting.  What the hell is happening?

Your answer came in the form of a public announcement: “To all students: this is the Guidance Committee,” says a woman’s voice with a New Jersey accent.  “This week is Zero Late Attendances Week, and it’s only ten minutes before the bell.  Let’s hurry it up!” Oh, that’s why.  “Any students late this week will be issued yellow cards! Please try to arrive with plenty of time to spare!”

You could hear Mr. Vantas laughing.  “Haha! I love Zero Late Week.  It gets so lively!”

That’s great and all, but shouldn’t you hurry up too? It wouldn’t look good on you as a teacher to be late to your first class.

“It’s alright, Mx. Reader.  As a teacher, you’re allowed to be late for ten minutes at the very least.  Any later, and not only does your class get canceled, you’ll get a mark on your record.  Do it enough times, and you’ll get slapped on with a hefty fine.  We can't have our educators and role models slacking off and leaving a bad impression on our dear students now, don't we.  But you seem like a punctual sort, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

That’s nice.  Ten minutes was enough time to run and buy a breakfast sandwich or a tall coffee before getting to class when running late for any reason.  Cooking isn’t one of your strong suits.

A minute later, you feel a tickling sensation in your nose.  You try hard to fight the urge to sneeze, for it’s simply impolite to blow your nose around company.

AACHOO!!

You fail miserably.  So miserably that with an uncontrolled burst of majyyk, you somehow manage to create a draft strong enough to not only flip the skirts of the surrounding female students all at once, but also make the cable car jump an inch off the rail it was on.  The girls blab to each other in slight panic while others berate the boy passengers, accusing them of being perverts for peeking at their undergarments.  Mr. Vantas turns to look out the window with a blush on his cheeks.

“Bless you?” he says, sounding quite unsure of what had just transpired.  You thank him and apologize as you pull out a handkerchief to wipe the snot dribbling down your nose.

* * *

 

The Principal’s Office is quite spacious.  The floors and the ornamental window frames where made of polished wood.  The decor approach was rather minimal—just a desk, a chair, a coffee table, a red two-person suede couch, a few paintings depicting famous comedians along the walls, and a couple of bookshelves full of books (mostly about baking, practical japery, and mystery novels) and knick-knacks.  Mr. Vantas had left you alone so he can attend to his other duties.

“Why, if it isn’t our new teacher, hoo hoo!” the principal of Alterra Academy, a jolly elderly woman named Jane Egbert according to the nameplate on her desk.  “Welcome to Alterra.”

You give a polite bow.  It’s nice to meet you.

“Headmaster Wiseman has told me about you.  Graduating at only thirteen? You’re quite the prodigy.”  You blush at her flattery.  Shucks, ma’am.  You don’t have to go through that.

“Hoo hoo! Now there’s no need to be so modest.  Wiseman tells me your diploma told you to be a teacher for aliens for your post-grad training, is it not? Then you’ve been given quite the task.”

You agree.  It was truly odd that a kid like you would be assigned such a grown-up job.  Though everyone in the room understands that there was absolutely nothing that can be done about it.

“I’m not going to lie, Mx. Reader, this job will probably be difficult.”  Principal Egbert’s voice took a slight serious tone.  “If it’s too hard for you, you’ll have to return home.  And there’ll be no second chances.  Are you prepared to accept that?”

This was it.  There’s no turning back. You’ve gone through a lot, and spent a lot just to get the ticket to fly to this place. The kid side of you thinks that it’ll be too much to handle and it's better to just go back home, but the budding adult side of you screams at you to not back down of the first real challenge life has thrown at you.  You want to be the greatest mage in the world, do you? Then you might as well swallow your kiddy pride, stand up straight, clench your asscheeks, and say, “I’ll do it!”

“Bravo! Then it’s settled.”  Principal Egbert clapped her hands, happy at your answer.  “But first and foremost, you must gain some practical experience.  Let’s make it from today to March.”

Of course!

“We’ll begin today. Let me just page the Staff Guidance Officer to get you started.”  She pushes a button on the telephone at a corner of her desk and calls for a Ms. Porrim Maryam to come to the Principal’s Office.  You sat down on the couch as you wait.  A couple of minutes later, the door opens and someone steps in.

It was another troll, a lady troll to be exact.  Her horns are much longer and pointier than Mr. Vantas’ with one of them being hooked.  Her short cropped hair is styled neatly to accentuate her narrow face and perfect cheekbones.  Like him, she’s dressed in a professional yet stylish manner with her white blouse, jade green maxi skirt, and black high heels.

“Are you in need of assistance, principal?” she asks in a soft kind voice and makes note of your presence. “And who might you be? A new student, perhaps?”

“I’m fine, Ms. Maryam,” the principal replies.  “That child, however, is actually a new teacher here at the academy.”

Ms. Maryam covers her mouth with a dainty manicured hand in mild surprise.  “Really? But you’re so young.”  If you had a penny for every time someone commented about your age, you'd have three pennies.  Maybe more in the near future, but for now you have to settle with three.

You explain your situation to Ms. Maryam who relaxes a bit.  “I see.  Can’t say I still approve, but if that’s what has been decided and it can help you in some way, then I won’t object.  Though if there’s something you don’t understand, please feel free to consult me.”  You nod.  You’re going to need all the help you can get.

“Hoo hoo!” Principal Egbert chuckles. “Now that everything’s said and done, you may take this class roster,” she hands over a booklet to you.  “Your assigned homeroom is Class 413.  Ms. Maryam can show you the way.”  Ms. Maryam’s jade eyes seem to widen in astonishment at the mention of Class 413.  The principal just gives her a knowing look in return.  You can’t help but wonder if there was something no one is telling you, or are willing to tell you.  You take a moment to wonder if taking this teaching gig was really a good idea.  You then catch yourself and shake off the terrible quitter thoughts creeping into your mind.  You can do this.  You’ve already agreed you can do this.

* * *

 

Your mind was still preoccupied by the thoughts of Class 413 as you and Ms. Maryam walked within the silent halls of the school, passing classroom after classroom.  Each one of them had glass pane windows so you could see a typical class setting that often consists of mixed troll and human students being taught by either a troll or human teacher.

Ms. Maryam seemed wary the minute Principal Crocker brought them up.  Even as she walked next to you, her posture seemed somewhat rigid and there was a furrow on her brow.

You decided to just get on with it and ask her what Class 413 was like.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry.  I suppose you deserve to know at the very least since you’ll be serving as their homeroom teacher.”  She hesitates for a bit.  “Class 413 is… a tad problematic.”

Problematic? That could mean a lot of things, most of which aren’t very good.  Is she saying that you got stuck with a class full of delinquents?

“No, not per se,” Ms. Maryam says.  She then stops walking, so do you. Is there something wrong?

She swivels her head around, possibly looking for other presences in the hall.  Then she turned back to look straight into your eyes.  There was an serious look on them you didn’t think you’d see on someone with a motherly temperament.  “Listen closely,” she says.  “What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential.  No one else but the founder, the principal and a select few members of the staff and faculty, including myself, know of this.  Not even Earth’s mainstream media knows anything.  I’m going to tell you this since you’re going to be in charge of Class 413 for however long you’re here.  But I ask that you promise to keep a tight lip on this subject.  You do not, under any circumstances, reveal any of this to anyone.  Do you understand?”

You say yes.  Boy, this was intense.  First day on the job and you’re already getting wrapped up in some kind of weird conspiracy.

Ms. Maryam gives you a warm smile.  “I know I could trust you,” she says.  “Alright, here it is.  Around a perigee, or month before your arrival, a second Alternian spaceship crashed on this planet.  Unlike the one our group escaped in, this one was much smaller, possibly a minor cruiser.  It landed into the ocean not far from the islands.  As far as the rest of this world is concerned, it was just a huge meteor.  But for those who remember life on Alternia, we quickly realized what it truly was, and we immediately scrambled to retrieve it before it sank further into the deep depths.  What we found after we forcibly opened it, shocked us.”  She took a deep breath.  She seems shaken about the subject, even a while after the incident.

“Children,” she continued.  “We found children.  They looked to be about to be six sweeps, or thirteen years old at the very least.”

Wow.  That’s just terrible! You’re so shocked by this news that you can’t think of anything to describe what you’re really feeling right now other than shock.  Those kids weren’t any older than you were and they somehow managed to escape their planet and into outer space all alone?

“To think that a group of children would go so far to flee from Alternia by themselves.  It tells me—us—that things at the homeworld aren’t getting any better.  Perhaps it’s getting worse.  I’m not sure,” a somber Ms. Maryam says.  “We took them in and decided that it would be best for them to try and acclimate to life here.  From the way things look, they’re probably going to spend the rest of their lives on this planet.  However, these wrigglers were hatched from Alternia, and they don’t take well to being in close proximity as an adult troll.  Not even my Kankri could win them over.  Frankly, I don’t blame them.  Alternian adult trolls tend to be dangerous toward youngsters.”

You don’t know much about what Alternia was like, but from what you’re hearing in conjunction with what you’ve heard from Mr. Vantas and read from the internet, it sounded like a place that made Hell look like paradise resort in comparison.  No offense.

“None taken. You’re right, actually. It’s why we fled in the first place.”

You suggest that if troll teachers aren't able to help those kids, why not try human teachers?

“We have already tried that as well.  But humans aren’t well versed to Alternian social norms and cues.  All attempts on successful rapport ended in disaster… for the humans.  At this point, we’re at our wit’s end, but our founder constantly reminded us to never lose hope.  He firmly believes that these wrigglers could be rehabilitated.  Personally, I and a few others think so too.”

Ms. Maryam looks at you thoughtfully.  “You know, I’m starting to think that perhaps your assignment as a teacher here may be more than a mere coincidence.  Yes, I see now.  Where the adults have failed, you might succeed.  Given your relatable age, they’d probably be more willing to let their guard down and communicate with you.”  Oh, cool.  This might turn out to be easier than you thought.  “But don’t get too comfortable.  If you’re not careful, they’d walk all over you once given the opportunity.  I suggest that you watch your back around them.”  Welp, there go the last vestige of confidence you have left.

You both resume your walk, your hand tight around the class roster.  You look up to see the numbers on the classrooms gradually climb up.  Class 409… 410… 411… 412…

“Here we are.”  You almost bump into Ms. Maryam when she stops in front of a classroom near the end of the hall.  A sneak peek through the window shows you a room full of troll kids talking to each other, playing around, or just off doing their own thing.  You’re not sure if there are any humans mixed in as you couldn’t see even a hint of peach, brown, or black in the sea of gray skin and candy corn horns.  A troll boy with a pair of horns that oddly resembled flashlights takes notice of you and gives a flirty wink.  You back away and draw closer to Ms. Maryam.

You take a moment to open your class roster and get a glimpse of your prospective students.  You count a total of forty kids.  That’s forty troll kids from the hellplanet Alternia.  Forty troll kids who Ms. Maryam says might hurt either your body and ego (or both) should you allow it in any way.  It must have taken a lot pedial put-downs to get them to sit still for their one-on-one photo-op to make this roster.  Not all of them looked very happy.

But you don’t know, a fair lot of them also seem kind of nice.  Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Make sure to remember their names and faces quickly, okay?” Ms. Maryam reminds you.  You swallow a lump in your throat as you stood in front of the door, hands shaking.  Can you really do this? Can you really teach so many alien kids like this? You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and reach for the knob of the wooden door.  It’s now or never...

* * *

 

**EXTRA**

 

**ALTERRA ACADEMY FACULTY & STAFF DOSSIER**

 

Name: MSPA Reader

Age: 13 years

Occupation: Aspiring Grandmaster Mage, Alterra Academy newbie teacher

Notes:

-Shaped like a friend

-Junior majyyk user

-Protect them

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Kankri “The Signless” Vantas

Age: 16 solar sweeps/35 years

Blood Color: Candy/Human Red

Occupation: Alternian revolutionary/religious icon, Earth troll representative/ambassador, Alterra Academy Social Studies teacher

Notes:

-Love and equality for all

-Righteous leggings under professional garb

-Shouty when angered

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Porrim “Dolorosa” Maryam

Age: 35 solar sweeps/76 years

Blood Color: Jade Green

Sign: Virgo Occupation: Signless’ guardian/mother, Academy Staff Guidance Officer, Student Guidance Councilor

Notes:

-Team Mom

-Rumored to be a Rainbow Drinker/Troll vampire

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Jane Egbert, née Crocker

Age: 80 years

Occupation: Alterra Academy Principal

Notes:

-Ex-heiress to a baking empire

-Practical japerist

-Senior Sleuth


	2. The Kids of Class 413

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to meet the kids you're gonna be in charge of. First impressions are rocky, but they smooth out soon enough... only to get rough again. Later, you get to spend time with your colleagues. Plus a storytime with Mr. Vantas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alterra Academy standard uniforms are in the popular preppy style most private schools on Earth have. Tops consist of a long sleeve white button-down shirt and a black blazer with the school logo on the left chest side. Troll students have their signs parallel to the logo on the other side. Ties come in candy red for human students while troll students have theirs in whatever blood color they have. Bottoms are either deep grey skirts for girls, or trousers for boys. Socks must be either white or black with tasteful leather shoes. Dress code rules may not be as strict as they are in other academies, but there will be consequences if the uniform gets so modified that it stops being recognizable.

You twist the knob and push the door open.  The sounds of babbling and activity die out in an instant at the sounds of squeaking door hinges take over.  You make a careful step past the threshold, unaware of the forty pairs of eyes staring at you or the mischievous giggles directed at you.

As you open the door a little wider to allow the rest of your body to go further, you hear a faint clatter from above that jolts you on alert.  The giggles stop and the kids’ amused expressions turn into surprise.  You look up to see a chalkboard eraser hovering just a couple of inches away from your head.  Ah, the classic chalk duster trap—the ever popular age-old school prank that no one seems to tire of.  You fondly regard it as you remember your SUIT days until you realize that the eraser was still suspended in the air above you.  You tilt your head slightly just enough to see the bewildered faces of your students staring.  Crapbaskets! You must have used majyyk to keep it from landing on you without realizing it.  This doesn’t look good.  The most fundamental rule of majyyk was that it was forbidden to reveal it in the presence of anyone who isn’t another mage.

You pull the majyyk back and let the eraser fall.  However, you were so concentrated on it that you made a momentary oversight of keeping your gaze up on it.  As a result, the dusty board writing correction implement lands square on your face and bouncing off to the floor, chalk dust landing delicately on the surface of your wide open eyeballs.

Holy shit! It stings!!

Your hear a loud chorus of laughter as your hands went to your face on reflex to try and get rid of the dust.  “My goodness!” You hear Ms. Maryam’s voice through the din.

You manage to wipe most of the chalk dust from your face and make a tentative step forward and trip over an invisible wire.  The next thing you know, something falls onto your head with a loud clang and you’re sent tumbling across the floor.  Stopping only after hitting the teacher’s desk at the center of the class front.  The laughter grows louder.  This must be what Ms. Maryam meant when she told you to be careful.  You haven’t even done anything, yet here you are on the floor with some metallic object obscuring your head and face filthy with chalk dust.  You must be quite a sight right now.  How utterly humiliating.  You try your best to blink away your tears; you can’t afford to show any kind of weakness, not in front of your students.

A moment later, the metallic object gets lifted off your head.  You look up expecting to see Ms. Maryam, but it was someone else instead.

“Are you alright?” A troll girl with a jade colored streak in her long silky black hair asks you with a genuine concern on her face.  She kind of reminds you of a mom.  “Oh, you’re just a wriggler.”

You hear more laughing, though this time the rest of the class didn’t join.  Strange enough, one of the jokers’ laughter sounded a lot like a series of LOLs—like the internet slang.

Your savior turns to the source of the laughter with righteous anger burning in her eyes on your behalf.  “Seriously, Kuprum? Folykl? Of all the pranks you two could come up with—a bucket? In class? Really?!”

“Lololol!” A troll boy with four jagged horns and a pair of fuschia goggles strapped over his strange yellow and purple eyes laughs.  “Like how were we supposed to know it ain’t some other shitty adult coming in?” His wide smile shows off a set of saw-like teeth.

“Yeah…” says a troll girl with long greasy terribly unkempt hair and two pairs of horns like Kuprum, only hers jag outward instead of inward like his.  She’s sitting awfully close to him.  “What’s done. . . is done. . .”  Her voice sounds ragged.  Not the tired kind of ragged, but rather the weak and sick kind of ragged.  “Don’t… get your. . . undies. . . in a twist, Bronya. . .  That was. . . funny… as hell. . .”

Your savior, now known as Bronya, started to full on berate the prankster duo.  While she got busy, another troll kid, a boy wearing a pair of sunglasses and horns like deer antlers, goes to help you get back on your feet.

“Sorry about that,” he says in a cool rather aloof manner.  “A lot of these asshats don’t really have anything better to do with their time.”

“Shut up, Dammek! You were in on it a  _lot of the time!_ ” says a heavyset troll girl sitting next to a long-haired boy with three pointy horns and a mustard yellow coat in lieu of the school blazer.  Her figure is impressively muscular, so much that the sleeves that were supposed to conceal her big buff arms were nonexistent; most likely torn off.  “This whole schoolfeeder pranking was  _your_ idea to begin with!”

“ _Anyway…”_ Dammek ignores her.  “Think of it as a rite of passage. Of course, none of the schoolfeeders last very long once we’re done with them.  Not even the troll adults could handle us.”  He says it like it’s some kind of proud accomplishment.

“The trolls here are a bunch of weaklings, including the highbloods,” a girl with curvy notched horns and three eyes agrees while inspecting her nails.  “It’s shameful, really.  They wouldn’t last one second if this was Alternia.”

“They’d be taken to the culling fields for a little R and R, lol,” says Kuprum.  Rest and relaxation? That doesn’t sound so bad.

“Rampage and rending,” he clarifies.  You stand corrected.

“Especially that weirdo with the nubby horns and his lame ass talk about equality and shit.”  A few other trolls in the class turn to give him the stink eye.  “Lololol! So fucking longwinded about it, too.  Like, he never shuts up once he got going.  He’s as bad as Galekh, but preachier.”  A boy with short curly hair, glasses, and Christmas tree-shaped horns scowled and opened his mouth to object, only to be held back by a tired-looking girl with a mug.  “Lol! He’s so full of bullshit, I can’t even—Hrk!”

Kuprum gets cut off abruptly and you see Dammek had taken a tight hold of his uniform necktie and began to choke him with it. You stand around in shock.  Dammek had gone from your side to choking his classmate in a blink of an eye.

“Take that back, you asshole,” he says, voice dangerously low.  But Kuprum was too busy trying  _not_  to die to make a proper reply.  Next to him, Folykl is trying to separate the two boys as she cussed out at Dammek, but failing due to her measly strength.  Another troll with a pair of simple curved horns grabs hold of Dammek from behind to pull him away.  No one else tries to get between them.  Some seem content, amused even, at watching them try to go for each other’s throat.  Others just preferred not to get involved.  Bronya has long since retreated to the side.  The look on her face tells you that she wants to stop them, but unsure at how to approach.

This is definitely not how you imagined your first class was going to go.  You have to stop them.  As the teacher, it’s one of your duties to stop your students from killing each other.  You take a step and reach out to try and mediate between the two aggressive young trolls.

“Wrigglers, please! This is not the time for fighting!” Ms. Maryam’s cry beats you to the punch.  The class grows silent and still at the sight of the adult jadeblood standing in front of the class.  She sighed and rubs her temples, trying to soothe away a growing headache.  “Please return to your seats at once.  Honestly, this is  _not_  the way to greet your new schoolfeeder.”

The class lets out a collective “Huh?” then started looking back and forth between her and you.

“So, um…” A girl with wide horns reaching horns that looked like a cow’s and a twig in her mouth raises a hand.  “Ms. Maryam, does this mean ya’ll be schoolfeedin’ us from now on?”

“Oh, no,” Ms. Maryam replies.  “I’m only here as an escort.  Your real schoolfeeder is right here.”

All eyes follow as the only adult in the room gestures to the only human.  When you realize all the attention has shifted towards you, you bat away the remaining chalk dust that clung to your hair and clothes before flashing them a friendly smile and wave.  Some of the kids grimace at the sight of your filthy face.

Ms. Maryam smiles at you.  “Please introduce yourself to the class.”  You nod and take your place at the front and center.  You tell them your full name and that from today onwards, you’ll be teaching at this school.  You’ll be only here for three terms, but it’s nice to meet everyone.

There was a pregnant pause as they all just stared at you after you finished your introductions.  All the while you notice that the classroom had a tier-style seating similar to that of an auditorium or a lecture hall where the seats start off from the ground and go higher like a set of stairs.  You silently counted five tier rows, split at the middle by a narrow set of actual stairs with two more additional sets at either side for ease of access.  Each row comfortably accommodates four troll kids each.

Oh, man.  Just look at all those obvious dress code violations.  They’re not even trying to be subtle about it.  Or maybe they just don’t care.

You consider  _maybe_ handing out demerits or detention slips for violating the school standard dress code, but scrap that plan quickly.  Doing so wouldn’t endear you much to your students especially since your botched first impression.  Ms. Maryam stands a little bit behind you, ready to intervene in case things start going south.

“Hmm hmm…”  You hear a faint titter.  “Hmhmhmhmhmhmmhmmhwahahahahaah!!” The tittering grew louder until it turned into a full blown laugh.

“Oh how funny this is.  How very droll,” said a three-eyed girl in mirthful mockery.  “That  _human_ is going to be schoolfeeding us?”

“The other human schoolfeeders barely lasted longer than the adult troll schoolfeeders did,” says the boy with the flashlight horns, one arm on the desk, the other supporting his chin in a daydreaming pose.  “It’s kinda sad, really.  I would have loved to get to know them a little better.  Humans are so fascinating and exotic.”  He gives you another flirty wink while he gets weird looks from all adjacent classmates.  You nearly blanch.

“Hey! How old are you? You don’t look as old as the other schoolfeeders,” asks a shorter troll boy whose fluffy hair obscured his eyes and seems to be holding a hotdog sandwich.  Doesn’t this little guy know that eating in class is a no-no?

You answer his question anyway, being mindful to give your age both in years and sweeps.  And to make up for your lousy entrance, you also mentioned your university level knowledge in your subject.  Nothing like a little bragging ought to nurse your bruised ego, and maybe to make you look a little less lame than usual.

“So you’re in a similar age as us and are officially qualified to professionally teach a class,” a boy with product-infused hair swooping over one side of his face says as he examined you with a scrutinizing gaze from his seat.  “I must say, that’s rather impressive, even on Alternia.  Though it’s also pretty obvious that the higher-ups of this schoolfeeding facility are getting desperate and running out of ideas.”

“Kinda makes you wonder if this is all for real,” says a girl with hooked horns and dyed blue hair with an undercut, leaning back on her seat with her boot-clad feet on the desk.

“I assure you that Mx. Reader’s credentials are all valid,” says Ms. Maryam.  “Remember, they may be the same age as you, but you must treat them with proper respect as an authority figure, understand?” The class answered her with a chorus of varying but unenthusiastic agreement.

“Alright, now that you’re acquainted, I believe it’s time for class.”  The adult jade troll turned to you.  “You can take it from here, Mx. Reader.”  Oh, okay…  She turns and exits the room.  Great, now you’re all alone and at the mercy of forty unpredictable alien kids.

You nervously make your way behind the teacher’s desk and set and open textbook upon it. You put on your best professional face.  You will not be laughed at again; you’ve got to take this seriously.  You tell the class to turn to a specific page of their textbooks and go up to the chalkboard to write something.  However, it seems that there has been a bit of an oversight on your part.

You’re too short to reach the top of the board.

Your blush as you hear giggles from behind.  You don’t blame them—standing on your tiptoes and stretching your arm up in a useless effort must look really funny.  But then, out of nowhere, you feel your stomach clench and your feet leave the ground.  You go up and up until you make it to the appropriate height you had been aiming for.  This isn’t your doing at all.  You’d know if you used majyyk to float, but in the few seconds of that moment, it felt like you just stepped into a strong breeze.

You turn your head slightly and take a glance back at the class.  You notice flashes of cyan and blue coming from the troll boy with the coat, which turned out to be coming from his eyes.  He’s holding up one hand and you could see his fingertips emit similar colored sparks.  You realize that this must be the work of psionics.  You’ve learned that some trolls, particularly the ones in the burgundy and gold caste, have powerful psychic powers.  Now that you think about it, maybe you’re not the only peculiar one in this school after all.

He notices you looking at him and he gives you a thumbs up with his other hand while smiling.  You thank him silently and move on with the lesson.  Your heart feels lighter at how easy things are going.  The troll kids are nice to you so far.  Maybe it has something to do with your age like Ms. Maryam said.

However, as with all good things, your revelry comes to an end when pain strikes the back of your head and you start to fall.  You cry out, but quickly catch yourself with a quick floatation spell and make a soft landing back on the floor.  You look around and back to the class and at the goldblood kid who catches your gaze and shakes his head in adamant denial.  By the looks of it, he is just as surprised as you are and it broke his concentration on you which caused your fall.  You turn back around to the board, deciding it was for the best to just keep going like nothing happened. . . until it happens again… twice.

You’re hit with such force that your forehead slams on the chalkboard.  The giggles resumed.  You step away, rubbing your aching forehead.

“Is there something wrong, teacher?” You hear Bronya ask.  You tell her that there are things that keep flying at you.  She immediately casts an admonishing look at Kuprum and Folykl, who quickly catch on.

“Don’t… look at us…” says Folykl.

“We already did our share of pranks,” Kuprum follows.

Bronya turns away, begrudgingly deeming them honest.  She then leans forward on her seat to look at someone at the far end of her row.  “Cirava, did you use your psionics against the schoolfeeder?”

Yet another goldblood troll looks her way with a half-lidded neon green eye at the mention of her name.  They had short messy hair that stuck out at different directions.  Like the other goldbloods, they had four horns—two of which go straight up and curve a little outward near the top and ended in two pointy prongs.  A triangular eyepatch hides and injury in their other eye if the prominent gold veins on that side of their face are to be referenced.

They speak in a relaxed almost sleepy tone.  “Nah, my dude.  My psionics haven’t worked right since I took out my eye.”  You look at them, utterly mortified.  How and why would anyone mutilate themselves like that was beyond you.

“I see,” Bronya says in understanding.  She then turns around to ask the last remaining psionic kid.  The short stocky one sitting next to her wasn’t one despite being also goldblooded, guess not all of them can have super cool powers.  “Well, Azdaja?”

Azdaja began shaking his head once more.  “I didn’t do it.  I was helping, remember?”

Bronya furrowed her brow.  “Then who did?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Hey! Leave him alone,” the buff-bodied girl next to him shouted.  “Daja didn’t do shit wrong! Calm your rumble spheres, fussyfangs!” Bronya turned away with a huff.

“It’s probably Dammek,” said the girl with the dyed hair.  “He’s sorta paranoid so he tends to go around testing people.”  Dammek glared her way, upset at being downright outed.  “He’s was mostly the reason we had gone through several schoolfeeders befo—Ack!” An unknown projectile hits the side of her head and makes her flinch.  She glares back at him, baring her sharp teeth.

“You wanna go, Elwurd?” he asks.

You start to get nervous.  You’re  _really_ not keen on having another fight in your class.  And Ms. Maryam isn’t around this time to help you out.

_Ding… dong… dong… ding…_

Whew! Saved by the bell.  Thank gog.  You’re not sure how you would have done should things got out of hand.

You check your watch for the time.  It’s high noon, which means it’s lunchtime! The kids get up from their seats and start heading for the door as you gather your things from the teacher’s desk.

You notice something on the floor next to your foot.  You bend down and pick it up out of curiosity and look at it closely.  It was white with brushes of gray and felt rubbery to the touch. It’s an eraser, or a chunk of an eraser broken off from a larger whole.  You think back to several minutes ago, put two and two together and grimace.  This tiny thing almost gave you a concussion.

“Hello there~” You hear a suave voice coming from nearby.  You turn and see one the flashlight-horned troll boy standing in front of you.  You wonder if he needs something.

“I can’t help but realize that you might be all alone during this midday meal hour,” he said, sidling up to you and getting a little too close for comfort.  “Have you been given a tour of our fine schoolfeeding facility yet? If not, then I’m more than happy to volunteer.  I’ve been around for a while and I know every hidden cranny.  I can show them to you if you want, and perhaps get to know each other while we’re at it?” Oh gog, this is just like your Japanese animes—except it’s real and not as romantically exciting as you thought it would be!

“Move aside, Troll Romeo!” Flirtyboy let out a grunt when he was shoved away from you.  Thank goodness for that.

“Hey teach, you wanna have lunch with us?” Elwurd presence replaces Romeo’s (is that even his real name?) albeit at a more acceptable distance.  “I bet you still got no clue where the nutrition block is in this place.  Why don’t you come with me and Cirava and we’ll show you?” Cirava waves at you from her spot a foot away.

You take a moment to ponder on her offer.  There wasn’t much time for a grand tour when you and Mr. Vantas stepped out of the airport and quickly got marched to your class.  You nod.  It would be nice to have company.  Fortunately, you needn’t worry about any kind of stigma associated with anything beyond the acceptable student-teacher relationship.  You may be the teacher, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you and your students are all about the same age.

Elwurd beams.  “Cool! Let’s go.”  The two troll girls walk with you on both your sides like a pair of bodyguards.  Boy, this day just keeps getting better.  The day wasn't over yet and you're already making friends with your students.  Was it because your'e a teacher? Ah, who cares? You're happy!

You go ahead and take the first to step out of the classroom.

“Ah, Reader! There you are.”  You hear Mr. Vantas’ voice call out to you, and sure enough, there he is coming at you down the hall.  And he isn’t alone—there’s another adult troll behind him.  She was a lady like Ms. Maryam, though younger and a has a little wild look on her.  Her hair was long and a little messy, though you could clearly make out her horns that look like cat ears.  Her casual business attire has mostly olive colors.

“Welp, it looks like there some important schoolfeeder biz about to go down,” says Elwurd.  “Looks like we’re gonna have to cancel our lunch date.  Maybe next time.”  She gives you finger-guns and a wink before leaving.

“Later!” Cirava bids, following behind Elwurd.  You wave them goodbye.

“Reader, would you care to join us for lunch?” Mr. Vantas asks as he and his friend stop to talk to you.  “I know you’re young, but we’re still colleagues.  Also, Dolorosa insisted that we invite you along in case you have any questions.”

Dolo—who?”

“Oh, sorry. I meant Ms. Maryam.”  Isn’t her name ‘Porrim’?

“It’s more of a title. Like mine is ‘Signless’.  It’s… a weird troll thing…”  Right.

“Wow, is this the wriggler teacher mew told me about?” asks the lady troll, gaping at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, they are,” Mr. Vantas replies.  “Also, maybe if you—”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeee! Mew’re so cute!” The lady troll cried while hugging the life out you with your face pressing on to her chest.  Did she just use cat puns?

Mr. Vantas gives her a dry look that goes unnoticed.  “I can’t believe a tiny kitten like you is a teacher in our school! Oh-em-gee!” Several students lingering the hall watch with amusement as she goes on to pinching and squishing your cheeks in her alien hands like a lump of toy slime.

Uhh…

“Meulin, please stop.  You’re embarrassing them,” Mr. Vantas admonishes her.  She pouts a little, but does as he says.  “Sorry about that,” he apologizes to you on her behalf.  You tell him you’re fine.  Hopefully the slight swelling of your abused cheeks would go down in time for your next class.  And yes, joining them for lunch sounds like a swell idea.  You could ask for pointers in teaching.

“That great! Shall we go then?” You nod and take your place between the two adults like you had with Elwurd and Cirava.

* * *

 

Being the big school Alterra Academy is, there’s no doubt that their facilities like the cafeteria would also be big.  Though to you, it isn’t such a big deal.  The dining hall at SUIT was just as big.  The difference between that and the academy cafteria is the contemporary design versus the old ancient castle look.  There are kitchen installations lined along two ends of the facility and some stalls that serve all kinds of food, including Alternian fare.  You and your colleagues go and order some food and head to the Staff Lounge where all the other teachers and some other members of the school staff congregate on their breaks to escape from the kids and relax for at least an hour everyday.

“It looks like you’re getting along with Class 413,” Mr. Vantas says after sitting down on a cushy chair.  Meulin, or Ms. Leijon the Literary Arts teacher as she introduced herself, sat on another next to him.  “How was your first class? Was there any trouble?” You have half a mind to tell him  _all_  that happened, but you also didn’t want to come off as whining.  So you tell him that it was a success and everyone was so well behaved and nice.

“Whoa, really?” he asks.  “That’s new.  All the other teachers who tried to handle that class usually ran out crying or furious around the first quarter of class time.  I even tried, but…”

Ms. Leijon beside him giggles.  “He ended up unleashing a vast expletive at the class after half an hour.  It was so loud, some teachers poked their heads out of their classrooms to see what was going on--myself included.  After that, he walked out and lamented to Dolorosa what he did.”

“Don’t tell him that, Meulin.  The last thing I want is to have Reader get a bad impression of me.”  S he stuck her tongue out at him in a playful manner.  “I still can’t believe I lost my patience so easily.  Perhaps my time at the flogging jut has changed me.”  His expression turns somber. Ms. Leijon takes one of his hands in hers and give it a gentle reassuring squeeze.  Flogging? Was he involved with shady characters who he got on the bad side of?

“No, nothing like that,” Mr. Vantas says.  “Though to the Alternian ruling class, I might as well have. Not that it mattered much since I shouldn’t have lived in the first place.”

How come?

Mr. Vantas looks at you square in the eye.  “As you may or may not know, the planet Alternia is ruled by the hemospectrum.  Those in the warm end scrounge whatever they can to live by while being under the cruel thumb of the blueblood nobility.  Though in every generation of trolls laid by the Mother Grub, there’d be outliers—mutants—who don’t belong anywhere in the hemospectrum.  I was one such mutant.”

You raise an eyebrow and your eyes dart back and forth between him and Ms. Leijon.  Other than the obvious differences between them due to their genders, you don’t really see anything different about Mr. Vantas… unless, he’s got some weird appendage hiding under his clothes.

“I can tell you’re skeptical, and I don’t blame you,” he continues.  “Most mutations are often visible like an extra pair of eyes, or limbs, or whatever else that’s atypical of a certain caste.  Any troll grub who hatch with such mutations are often culled to keep the gene pool pure. Though there are cases, such as in goldbloods, where mutations are given a free pass as they are deemed useful by the regime.  In my case, however, the mutation is in my blood.”

Why? What’s wrong with his blood? Does he have a disease?

Mr. Vantas gave a low chuckle at your assumptions.  “No, it has more to do with the color.  You see, rather than a deep rust as dictated by the hemospectrum, my blood is a bright crimson like you humans have.  Since it was outside the hemospectrum, it marked me as a mutant and therefore have to be culled.  It was only through the kindness of the Dolorosa, my jadeblood mother, that my life was spared.  However, in doing so, she had to leave the brooding caverns in order to properly care for me.  From then on, we lived as nomads—never staying in any place for too long to avoid the risk getting my blood discovered and culled for it by the highbloods.  But as I grew older, I became more aware of the cruel and unjust way of life for lowbloods.  I thought to myself, there has to be a better way to live—where all would care for one another regardless of blood.  Soon, I began having vision of such a life, and started to spread the word. Before long, I gained followers.”

You nodd in understanding as you listen to him relay his life story to you.  So it turns out that the Dolorosa, who is Ms. Maryam, adopted and raised Mr. Vantas who grew up to become some kind of activist.

Though his story was compelling, you have a feeling that it wouldn’t have a happy ending.

“And of course, as with all good things in Alternia, it never meant to last or make a difference.  To make an already long story short, word got to the highbloods about my ‘radical’ ideals and deemed it a threat to the system, thus I got captured.  I was sentenced to death both as a mutant and a rebel, then tied me up on the flogging jut with burning shackles.  I was continuously beaten until my so-called heretical blood was let for all to see.  As I faded into unconsciousness, my final thought was that it was finally the end for me; I’d die without having realized my dream.  However, after what felt like eons, I found myself waking surrounded by friends and family.  I thought I had truly died, but the stinging pain of my wounds told me otherwise.  Later, I found out that one of my distant followers started a riot that allowed for our escape from the empire in a stolen battleship.”

At that point, a familiar motherly voice decided to chime in to add her bit.  “Finding your planet was something that happened by chance,” she says.  “We didn’t know where we were going.  All that mattered was to get away from the reaches of the Empire as quickly as possible.  There were a few hundred of us cramped in a battleship flying through space.  By the time we found Earth, we have exhausted most of our rations.”  You look up to see Ms. Maryam standing behind your chair.  “Once we realized that the blue and green planet ahead of us was capable of sustaining life, we immediately went full speed ahead and soon crashed.  Many of us perished, but thanks to the helpful efforts of a certain human, many were also saved.  And the rest, as you humans say, is history.”

Okay, the story did have a happy ending after all.  Though you were so preoccupied by the story that you didn’t realize when Ms. Maryam arrived.  How long has she been there?

“Just enough to hear Kankri tell you about the aftermath of his failed execution,” she replies, moving to take a seat next to you.

“What took mew so long, Dolorosa? Lunch period is halfway over,” asks Ms. Leijon.

Ms. Maryam gave a little sigh.  “Well, I went to invite a certain someone to join us while we get properly acquainted with our new teacher,” she looks at you, “but he seemed to be too absorbed in his work to move.  He didn’t seem to be interested on meeting them either, so I let him be.  It’s quite a shame.”

Welp, that can’t be helped.  You know better than to assume that everyone would be excited or curious enough to see a kid teacher.  All that’s left to do is enjoy your now cold lunch with your new colleagues.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot,” Mr. Vantas says while he and Ms. Leijon open up theirs.  “Say, while we’re at it, how about you tell us more about how your first class went.”

And so you spent the rest of the hour relishing the company of your fellow educators.

* * *

 

**EXTRA**

**ALTERRA ACADEMY CLASS 413 ROSTER**

**(SPEAKING ROLES ONLY/NO PARTICULAR ORDER)**

Student numbers are in accordance to Troll Call order of introduction + Dammek and Xefros 

Name: Bronya Ursama

Student #: 32

Blood Color: Jade

Sign: Virus

Extra-curricular/s: Grubsitters Club, Class President (?)

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: None

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Folykl Darane

Student #: 13

Blood Color: Gold

Sign: Gemittarius

Extra-curricular/s: Pranksters’ Gambit Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Unbuttoned blazer, nonexistent tie, pants rather than skirt, lacking presence of appropriate footwear

Note: Never separate from Kuprum

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Kuprum Maxlol

Student #: 14

Blood Color: Gold

Sign: Gemnius

Extra-curricular/s: Prankster’s Gambit Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Unbuttoned blazer, Loose tie, messy untucked shirt

Note: Never separate from Folykl

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Dammek ??????

Student #: 1

Blood Color: Bronze

Sign: Taurcer

Extra-curricular/s: Alterra Middle School Rock Band (Grubbles)

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Inappropriate eyewear

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Konyyle Okimaw

Student #: 36

Blood Color: Olive

Sign: Lepia

Extra-curricular/s: Alterra MMA Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Torn off sleeves on both blazer and shirt

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Ardata Carmia

Student #: 27

Blood Color: Cerulean

Sign: [Blocked by smudge on page]

Extra-curricular/s: Audio Visual Club, Social Media Streamers Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Cape over uniform

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Skylla Koriga

Student #: 12

Blood Color: Bronze

Sign: Taurist

Extra-curricular/s: Agriculture Research Society

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Cowboy boots

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Zebruh Codakk

Student #: 34

Blood Color: Indigo

Sign: Sagimino

Extra-curricular/s: Strolling Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Bow tie in place of standard tie, blazer tied around waist, shirt sleeves rolled to elbows

Note: In case of emergency, call the Academy Security Hotline.

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Tagora Gorjek

Student #: 26

Blood Color: Teal

Sign: Liga

Extra-curricular/s: Alterra Junior Philosophers Association, Class Treasurer

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Pinstripe pants

Note: If he tries to offer something, politely decline even if in dire need.

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: ?????? Elwurd

Student #: 21

Blood Color: Cerulean

Sign: Scornius

Extra-curricular/s: Strolling Club

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Skinny jeans and combat boots under skirt

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Cirava Hermod

Student #: 25

Blood Color: Gold

Sign: Gemrius

Extra-curricular/s: Vaporwave Appreciation Society

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Disheveled ‘not even trying’ look, gray leggings, inappropriate footwear

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Azdaja Knelax

Student #: 35

Blood Color: Gold

Sign: Gemra

Extra-curricular/s: Alterra Anime Afficionados Association (A4)

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: Mustard yellow overcoat in lieu of school blazer

 

**~oOo~**

 

Name: Diemen Xicali

Student #: 11

Blood Color: Burgundy

Sign: Arrius

Extra-curricular/s: Alterra Gastronauts

Uniform Discrepancy/ies: None

* * *

 

**ALTERRA ACADEMY FACULTY & STAFF DOSSIER**

 

Name: Meulin “The Disciple” Leijon

Age: 15 solar sweeps/33 years

Blood Color: Olive

Occupation: Signless’ most devoted follower/girlfriend, Academy Literature Teacher

Notes:

-Gratuitous cat puns

-Likes to ship even as an adult

-Furiously studies and compares human and troll literature


End file.
